


Nothing Good Starts in a Getaway Car

by spaceprincess97



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: I could write a book about bonnie and clyde at this point, I'm sorry for making Dasey canon, I've learned more about guns and cars than I ever wanted to know, M/M, be gay do crime, rated g for guns gangs and gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23745076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincess97/pseuds/spaceprincess97
Summary: Larythe Getaway Car/Bonnie and Clyde AU. Set in the 1930s. Julian and Sebastian are actual partners in crime.
Relationships: Julian Larson-Armstrong/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Nothing Good Starts in a Getaway Car

Dolce has all the pictures. Most of them are newspaper clippings, but a few are originals, given to her by Bailey. People have asked for them. She’s been offered a lot of money, money that she could certainly use. But she doesn’t take it. After all, the pictures are everything that she has left of her son. 

~

_June 1932. The Seigerson house, just outside of Newark, New Jersey. Julian and Sebastian stand facing each other, glasses in hand. Both of them smirking, a challenge in their eyes._

The flash of a camera went off and Julian, caught off guard, found himself trying to blink the lights out of his eyes. As his sight cleared, he looked around the Siegerson’s living room. It wasn’t a party, not really; Derek and Casey didn’t have the money for a real party. No one did. But Derek’s parents had insisted, had offered to throw the thing themselves, and so there Julian was, watching his oldest friend dance with his new wife while he sipped whiskey in the corner. 

It went on like this for a while before Julian, tired of lurking, sighed and slipped out the door. He made his way down the front walk and leaned on the fence, letting his glass dangle in one hand. 

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you didn’t want to be here.”

Julian glanced behind him and saw one of Derek’s guests, a man around his age, standing at the door.

“Maybe I just needed some air.”

“Maybe,” the man said, inclining his head. He walked down the steps and Julian turned fully to face him. 

“Derek’s busy, he won’t miss me.”

“You never know who’ll miss you.”

The man’s gaze was intense, almost scrutinizing, but he was smiling. Julian held out a hand. 

“I’m Julian Larson.”

The man took his hand and nodded in recognition.

“Derek’s friend from school, he’s mentioned you.”

“And you are?”

The man released his hand.

“Sebastian Smythe. The Seigersons and I work together.”

Julian didn’t know everything about Derek and Casey’s line of work, but he knew enough to understand what Sebastian meant. 

“You’re into cars, then,” Julian said, smirking. 

Sebastian laughed. 

“I sure am. You see that Jag over there?”

Sebastian points to a car just down the road. It’s nice, nicer than any car Julian’s ever gotten to drive. Julian lets out a low whistle.

“Maybe it’s time I get into cars.”

“Maybe you should,” Sebastian said. He took a sip of whiskey and sucked his teeth. “What about you, Julian? What do you do?”

“I’m going to be an actor.”

Julian said it with certainty. 

“An actor? Like on Broadway or something?”

“No,” Julian said, throwing back the rest of his whiskey, “I want to be in the movies.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows, but before he could respond, Logan Wright pulled up to the house. Julian cringed, just slightly.

“Friend of yours?”

“Sort of.”

Logan got out of the car and walked past them, throwing a, “hey, Jules” over his shoulder as he went inside to greet Derek. Sebastian tapped his finger against his glass.

“Friend… of yours?”

Julian snorted. 

“Nah, Logan’s never seen me that way. But I was… in love with him. Thought so, anyway.”

Sebastian looked at Julian, his eyes searching. 

“But not anymore?”

Julian grinned. 

“Not anymore.”

They raised their glasses and met in the middle with a soft _clink_.

~

_July 1932. New Orleans, Louisiana. Julian, sitting at a dining table. He has the ace of hearts held up between two fingers._

“I want in.”

Sebastian looked up from dealing the cards. 

“I haven’t finished dealing, J, but you’re welcome to play.”

Julian rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

Sebastian paused, then swept the cards into one hand. He jerked his head toward the kitchen and Bailey and Joshua, taking the hint, got up from the table and left the two of them alone. Bailey’s camera was still sitting on the table.

“I know about the job tomorrow, Seb. I want in,” Julian repeated. Sebastian split the deck and folded the cards together. 

“I’m fast, Sebastian. I’m a better driver than Joshua and you know it.”

An indignant “hey!” echoed from the kitchen. Sebastian laughed. He shuffled through the cards again. 

“You start driving, then what will we do with poor Joshua?”

“He can fire a gun or he can stand there and look pretty. I don’t care.”

“I can still hear you, Julian,” Joshua called. There was a shuffling noise, and then the sound of a door shutting as Bailey pulled his brother outside. Sebastian straightened out the deck in his hands.

“You do this job with us J… that’s it. You’re one of us. No going back. Are you ready for that?”

He held the deck out to Julian. Julian, humoring him, took the top card. He flicked it between his fingers. The ace of hearts. 

“I…” Julian hesitated, “I want ground rules. Boundaries.”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair. 

“We can do boundaries.”

“And I want to see my mother. When I can.”

Sebastian nodded. 

“We always make time for family. You know that.”

“Well…”

Sebastian put a key down on the table. Julian reached for the metal tag hanging off the key and rubbed his thumb across the engraving: a set of initials, SS. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around them and slipped them in his pocket. Sebastian grins and throws the cards in the air, letting them scatter over the ground.

“Take me for a ride, J”

~

_December 1932. Westerville Prison, Ohio. Julian is silhouetted against the brightness of the building and the snow. His coat billows out, concealing the pistol holstered at his side._

“How’s life in the big house?”

Julian said it like it was casual, like he didn’t know how bad things got at Westerville. Sebastian had promised that he’d find a way out, and in turn he’d made Julian promise not to worry—but who wouldn’t worry? Seeing Sebastian like that with his eyes sunken made Julian’s chest tighten in a way he didn’t want to think about.

“Never boring. You see those guys?” Sebastian jerked his head to the twins on his left. “In here for arson. They burned down a _hospital_.”

Julian looked, and the twins met his stare with identical smiles, just a little too big to feel natural. He looked back at Sebastian. 

“All the real criminals make you look small-time, huh?”

His tone was light, teasing. It always was. Nothing serious: another promise. 

“Who needs to be big-time when I’ve got a friend like you, J?”

Julian’s fingers brushed against the pistol under his coat. 

“Bailey came with me. He sends his regards.”

“Yeah? Tell him he can give me his regards himself.”

“I’ll let him know.”

It was a game. All of it, a game. But both Sebastian and Julian were very good at playing. 

“He got any pictures for me?”

Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of photographs, passing them through the window. Sebastian grabbed them, his fingers brushing gently against Julian’s.

“I gave Reggie your message. He says everything’s ready for you once you come home.”

Sebastian put the pictures down on the table. 

“That’s good to hear.”

“I believe he also said something about finally making an honest man out of his little brother.”

“I am an honest man.”

Julian raised an eyebrow. 

“Bold words from a car thief.”

Sebastian clutched his chest in mock offense. 

“Thief? Kitten, I’m Robin Hood.”

They talked a little longer after that, but about things that didn’t matter so much. The snowfall, the radio, anything to stretch the time. Sebastian asked questions about everyone, and Julian answered as best as he could. It wasn’t a lot, it wasn’t freedom, but it was something nonetheless.When visiting hours ended, Julian left Westerville Prison with his hands and his coat empty. 

~

_April 1933. Lexington, Kentucky. The Smythe Gang, from left to right: Bailey Tipton; his brother, Joshua; Julian Larson; Sebastian Smythe; his brother, Reggie; Derek Seigerson; Derek’s wife, Casey. Everyone is staring into the camera except for Sebastian, whose head is turned to look at Julian._

Julian drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. The waiting was always the worst part—not knowing what was happening inside, not knowing when they’d make it out—especially on a bigger job like this. When Sebastian, Derek, and Joshua finally came sprinting around the corner, he felt his adrenaline spike. Sebastian reached him first, vaulting over the side of the car and sliding into the passenger seat. Derek and Joshua piled into the backseat seconds later. 

“Go, J, now!”

In response, Julian revved the engine and peeled out onto the street. He tore through town, pushing the car up to 100 mph. He glanced in the mirror and saw a car following them; patrol officers. Julian swore. Sebastian turned and grabbed his rifle from Derek. He looked back at Julian.

“We’ve got this, kitten. Just get us out of here.”

Julian floored it. He heard the gunshots behind him, but he didn’t dare look back. He just kept going, speeding past houses as they got closer and closer to the edge of town. The next gunshot hit true, at least Julian thought it did; Derek cheered, and he heard the skid of rubber as the car behind them came to a stop. They blazed out of town and into the freedom of the open road. Sebastian looked over at him, eyes wild and hair in disarray, and pressed a kiss to Julian’s cheek. 

“That’s my getaway driver.”

~

_May 1933. Los Angeles, California. Julian, holding Sebastian’s rifle and pointing it at his chest. Both of them, grinning._

“Bas, I told you I don’t hike.”

Sebastian glanced back at Julian, dirt crunching under his feet.

“As much as I wished there was another way up, Mr. Diva, sometimes we have to work for the things we want.”

Julian rolled his eyes and caught up to Sebastian. Sebastian pushed Julian’s hair off his forehead, letting his fingers trail down the back of his neck. 

“You’re sweaty.”

We’re hiking! It’s hot!” Julian said, batting Sebastian’s hand away. 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting out of shape, kitten.”

Julian undid another button on his shirt. It was open nearly to his navel now, and Sebastian watched his hands as they worked. 

“Do I look out of shape to you?”

Sebastian huffed out a laugh. 

“God help the rest of us if that’s what you look like out of shape.”

He turned back to the trail and resumed hiking, Julian trailing just behind him. They walked in silence the rest of the way. Sebastian would turn to look back at Julian every few minutes, who just gave him an easy smile in return. As the trail levelled out, they found themselves walking side by side, their hands brushing occasionally. When they reached the letters, Sebastian slung an arm around Julian’s shoulders. They walked up to edge of the cliff and Julian breathed out a

“Whoa.”

All of Los Angeles, spread out below them. Julian was struck by the warm, hazy glow of Hollywood beyond the hills. 

“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed. He turned his head to look at Julian. “Is it everything you hoped for?” 

“Better than that.”

Julian met his gaze and held it. Sebastian’s eyes flicked to Julian’s mouth and then back up. 

“What are you thinking?”

Julian smiled, slow and sure. He could feel Sebastian’s heartbeat through his shirt. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe the proximity. Maybe Julian just felt a little dangerous.

“Something stupid.”

He pushed Sebastian’s arm off his shoulders and Sebastian complied, letting Julian take control. Julian grabbed Sebastian by the collar and pulled him in, kissing him in the shadow of the Hollywood sign. 

~

 _November 1933. Joplin, Missouri. Julian and Sebastian, locked in an embrace; Julian’s back is to the camera and Sebastian has one arm around his back and a hand in his hair. They’re a little blurry, like they were moving when the picture was taken_ _—it feels candid._

Sebastian, Julian, and the Tiptons pulled up to the safehouse and killed the engine. Reggie, driving the other car, with Derek and Casey in the backseat, pulled up next to him. Sebastian got out of the car and tossed a bag to Julian, who caught it and slung it over his shoulder. Sebastian met him on the other side of the car and kissed him, pulling him closer by the strap of the bag. Reggie rolled his eyes. 

“Be gross later. We have work to do.”

Sebastian pulled back and grinned. 

“He’s just mad he’s not getting any.”

“I’m not mad, I’m annoyed that you spend more time fucking our getaway driver than you do doing your job.”

Sebastian flipped his brother off in response. 

They unloaded their things into the safehouse. Bailey, who was messing with his camera, had spread his stuff out over the nearest table. They were relaxing; they could afford to. The last job had gone well, the car stolen without a hitch. That is, until now. Casey, who was looking out the window, frowned. 

“Guys? Are those—?”

“Patrol cars.”

They were coming down the road slowly, like they had no idea that they’d stumbled upon the safehouse of a gang wanted in twelve counties. Maybe they wouldn’t have even noticed, if not for the 

“Car.”

The stolen car. The car from just one town over. The car that the police were sure to recognize. The patrol car stopped. The gang all froze, just for a moment, before everyone seized their things and swept out the door. Sebastian and Derek, rifles already in their hands, opened fire. Reggie tossed Julian the keys, and in one fluid motion he jumped in the car and started the engine. He waited for Sebastian and the Tiptons to get in the car before tearing off down the road, Reggie close behind. Within an hour, they’d lost the patrol car and left it and the safehouse far behind. 

Sebastian stretched, letting his arm fall behind Julian. The night was quiet, until Julian heard shuffling in the backseat, and then:

“Fuck.”

“Talk to me, Bailey,” Sebastian said, lifting his hand to card his fingers through Julian’s hair.

“It’s the pictures, Sebastian.”

Sebastian frowned back at Bailey. 

“What pictures?”

“A roll of undeveloped negatives, I had them and now they’re gone.”

Julian and Sebastian looked at each other. 

“Fuck,” Sebastian echoed.

~

_December 1933. Wichita, Kansas. Julian, a pistol at his hip and a stogie hanging irreverently from his mouth. He’s leaning on the back of Sebastian’s car._

Sebastian tossed the newspaper down on the table in front of Julian. The headline in bold read **ELUSIVE SMYTHE GANG CAUGHT ON CAMERA**. Julian pulled it closer, and frowned at his own face.

“I hate that picture.”

Sebastian grinned and kissed the top of his head. 

“Smile, J. We’re famous now.”

~

_April 1934. Tulsa, Oklahoma. Julian, asleep in the backseat of a stolen car. Sebastian is out of frame except for his shoulder, which Julian is leaning on, and their hands, which are intertwined._

They were sitting together in the car outside a safehouse somewhere in Oklahoma, Julian’s head on Sebastian’s shoulder. Everyone else was asleep; it was after midnight. Julian tuned the radio, stopping on a Freddy Martin song. Sebastian smiled and turned his head to look at Julian. 

“Would you dance with me, if I asked you to?”

Julian laughed.

“Bas, I’d set the whole world on fire if you asked me to.”

Slowly, they made their way out of the car and put their arms around each other. They swayed together on the dirt road, spinning while the radio played “April in Paris.” Julian looked up at the stars, and then back down to Sebastian.

“You ever wish you could run? Leave it all behind?”

“Where would you run?” Sebastian asked, evading the question. Julian shrugged. 

“I don’t know. Europe, maybe. I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”

“Drink coffee along the Seine? Climb the Eiffel Tower?” Sebastian’s tone was light, teasing, but his eyes were serious. Julian bit his lip, thinking.

“All of it,” he said finally, “I want to see all of it.”

~

_August 1934. Arlington, Texas. Julian and Sebastian, standing together at the window of a safehouse. Julian’s hands are in his pockets, Sebastian’s arm around his shoulders. It feels like they’re saying goodbye._

It happened slowly, the disillusionment. It had started with the pictures in the paper. The more famous the Smythe Gang got, the more famous “Jules and Bas” got, the harder it was to stay safe. Everyone knew their faces, and there were very few places to hide. Julian felt the itch to run, and it mounted every day. He started stockpiling, taking his share of the money and putting it aside. He didn’t know how to tell Sebastian. How could he? Leaving this life behind meant leaving Sebastian and he didn’t know how to say goodbye. It would be better, easier, if he just vanished. 

Early the next morning, he was piling everything he owned onto the safehouse’s dining room table. The car keys were in Sebastian’s coat; all he had to do was take them. Everyone was asleep, he could be gone before they even knew he was missing. Suddenly, he heard a creak behind him. Julian whipped around and raised the pistol in his hand. Sebastian froze. Slowly, he raised his hands. 

“Has it really come to this, J?”

Julian shook his head. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Sebastian. You know I can’t. The hiding, the near misses—”

“You agreed, Julian! I told you, all or nothing, and you chose to come with me anyway.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” Julian screamed. His hands were shaking. Sebastian, who had been slowly moving closer, stopped. 

“How was I supposed to know, Julian?” he asked, pleading. “You think I like sneaking from town to town like this? Sending my little brother letters just so he knows that Reggie and I are _alive_?”

Julian let his arm drop to his side. 

“We’re running out of time, J. Everyone knows it, not just you.” Sebastian said it softly, like he was admitting it to himself as much as Julian. Julian sighed. 

“What do you want me to do?”

Sebastian crossed the remaining distance between them and gently pulled the gun from Julian’s hand. He placed it carefully on the table beside him and turned back to Julian. 

“I want you… to make one last deal with me.”

He paused, giving Julian room to speak, and when he didn’t, Sebastian pressed on. 

“Tomorrow morning, you can take that bag you’ve been hiding and fill it with cash. You take my keys. You run. You never look back. You let us face whatever hellstorm is coming for us.”

“And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t,” Sebastian swallowed hard, “Then we’ll still go down, but we go down together.”

That night, when they were in bed and Sebastian was running his knuckles down Julian’s spine, he asked, “You were really going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“Too hard to say goodbye,” Julian mumbled, fading into sleep. “Bas, you know I…”

“I know, kitten.” 

They had fallen asleep like that a hundred times, in the backroom of a safehouse with Sebastian’s arm around Julian and a pistol in Julian’s hand. But this was the last time. 

The Smythe gang’s last stand was as messy as it was confusing. Sebastian was right; the next day, as they headed out of the safehouse, they were ambushed. A betrayal; Adam Clavell, who had ran with them for the last few months, had ratted them out. The gang was hopelessly overwhelmed, and it seemed like the police had them—and they would have, if not for the dynamite. 

No one knows who rigged it. One of the gang members, or Clavell, or an officer—even years later, it’s still unclear. What people do know is that one moment the house was surrounded and the next, it exploded. When the dust settled there were no survivors. 

~

_September 1934. Paris, France. The Eiffel Tower, looming in the background. In the foreground, a table with nothing on it but two cups of coffee and a key with a little metal tag, engraved with two sets of initials: JL & SS. _


End file.
